


Alpha Whore

by imanadultiguess



Series: Bossy Omega Molly and Cuddly Alpha Mycroft [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A very mild feeding kink, Alpha Mycroft, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Also not really BDSM, Biting, Blood Play, But it's not really blood play, Dirty Talk, Dominant Molly, Domme!omega, F/M, I don't know, I guess I should maybe say, If I have missed a tag just tell me, Just soft BDSM undertones, Knotting, Molly just gets too excited, More like comfort food time, Omega Molly, PWP, REALLY bad dirty talk, There is no plot, There's fluff in the last chapter, sub!Alpha, submissive Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-07-18
Packaged: 2018-03-25 17:40:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imanadultiguess/pseuds/imanadultiguess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly Hooper is not like other Omegas.  Mycroft Holmes is not like other Alphas.  </p>
<p>Inspired by the song "Whatever Lola Wants."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Yes Ma'am

Molly Hooper was unlike any other Omega Mycroft Holmes had ever come across. Of course, romantic comedies and paperback books intended to be read on the beach while sipping cheap wine were _full_ of Omega protagonists who weren’t “like other Omegas,” and the phrase was tossed about loosely, as though it were some sort of compliment to stand apart from one’s own gender. Inevitably, though, all of these Omegas in fiction ended up with an Alpha, begging and pleading during heat, or perhaps having a thorough snogging session in the pre-heat stages. It was formulaic and profitable, and there was a reason why Mycroft Holmes had essentially dropped out of pop culture years ago.

Years ago, probably close to a decade, Mycroft had entertained other Omegas, though those events had been one-offs brought on by circumstance and occasionally by conscious surrender to desire (AKA checking tinder and craigslist for Omegas looking for partner). During his MI6 operative years, the Prime Minister of France had gone into a heat unexpectedly, and he and Mycroft had spent three days together in an abandoned warehouse while some poor Beta spy-now-hostage tried to get away. (No such luck, the Prime Minister of France was surprisingly good at tying knots.) 

He came away feeling that he had absolutely wasted three days, thinking of all the things he needed to do at the office, all the paperwork he’d have to fill out, yet somehow completely unable to leave the mewling mess of a politician mewling on the floor. The Alpha-Omega dynamic was at odds with his mind--his body fighting his brain. 

It’s not pleasant being mentally elsewhere whilst your body endlessly ruts. 

The truth was, though, Mycroft wasn’t like most Alphas. He resented his nature most of the time, and that resentment had only worsened with age. Silly, needy things, Omegas in heat--saying whatever they believe their Alphas want to hear. Mycroft Holmes had no time for doormats. Even James Moriarty turned into a helpless slut when oestrus hit. Mycroft had quickly suppressed his arousal and the urge to fuck the criminal into submission (or perhaps it had never been that strong to begin with), and sentenced him to solitary confinement with no toys to relieve his heat. He was strangely disappointed that _that_ was the form of torture to bring a confession from Moriarty. 

But Molly was not like other Omegas, and when his phone vibrated in his pocket, merely asking him to get to her flat as soon as possible, Mycroft felt something akin to terror accompany the surge of arousal in his gut. 

_I shall be there shortly, dearest._ He tapped out his response, and once he was outside the Diogenes Club, he called Anthea to tell her to clear his schedule for the next four days. 

“Four, sir?” 

“I’ll need…” he breathed, trying not to sound bashful, “...I’ll need a day to, ahem, recover.” 

Even though Anthea said only, “Yes sir,” he could hear her smirk. 

“Shut up,” he scowled at the speaker, ending the call quickly. 

He took a deep breath. _If you do this, Mycroft, you will be essentially brain dead for three days,_ he told himself. _You’ll need concealer, too, if Molly gets...well…._ He’d had to wear scarves for weeks after their first coupling. She’d left bruises and nail marks all across his body. And he had pleaded for every mark. 

He shivered at the memory. 

Molly “The Lab Mouse” Hooper was terrifying in heat. Deliciously terrifying. She made his throat and mouth run dry, his pulse race, his face warm, his skin purple beneath her vicious touches... 

_She always takes good care of you when she comes down, though,_ another part of his brain reminded him. He remembered the gentle touches to his scabbed-over chest and belly, the sweet kisses, and murmured apologies. “Sorry, Mycroft,” she had cooed. “I’m so sorry. It just...I can’t help myself. My poor, sweet Alpha. So good for me while I take what I need.” 

He shivered again, repressing a whimper that was caught in his throat. He didn’t bother contacting his driver, knowing that any delay would infuriate his Omega. 

_________________ 

His phone rang, making him twitch. He wasn’t sure if he was more apprehensive or aroused, but he felt as tight and stretched as a piano wire, ready to snap. He checked the caller ID. 

_Molly <3,_ it read, the less-than-three added by Molly after their second coupling. 

_Shit,_ he cursed internally. He didn’t want to answer it, didn’t want to hear the rage in her voice, didn’t want to disappoint her at how far away he was. 

“Yes, my Queen?” he purred, hoping to soothe her. 

“Where the hell are you, Mycroft Holmes?” she answered just as sweetly. His legs went weak at the saccharine lethality lacing her voice. 

“Ten minutes away, my--” 

“I want you here in five, Holmes,” she growled, her voice cracking in desire. _Oh god, no, she’s fucking herself on a toy…_ His trousers were suddenly tighter, and yet all he could feel was dread. 

“I can’t break the laws of physics--” 

“Five minutes or I will grab the nearest Alpha off the street and fuck him or her into oblivion while you watch,” she whispered. Heat brought out something cruel in Hooper. Something so perfectly cruel. He shuddered again, reaching down to give himself a quick squeeze at the stoplight. He must’ve whimpered, because she added, “Hands on the wheel, Holmes. That lovely cock is mine, and you know better than to touch without my permission, don’t you?” 

“Yes.” The sound of his voice was foreign to him. It sounded small and needy and christ, he just needed a little friction. 

“My poor Alpha, chained to the wall while I ride some stranger for hours. You could listen to them scream in pleasure when I -grind--” 

“Molly,” he gasped, interrupting her. “Molly, I’ll--I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please. Please don’t.” 

“You have four minutes.” 

The line went dead. _Call ended._

He felt himself shivering all over, his cock swelling uncomfortably. His automobile was too warm suddenly. He took a deep breath. He would need to cheat to please his Omega, to avoid _killing another Alpha with his bare hands for touching his Goddess, christ, Molly, how have you managed this?_ he wondered. _How have you enslaved me to my nature when I’ve worked so hard to be in control?_

_________________ 

Three changed stoplights and a towed motorbike later, Mycroft burst through the door to Molly’s flat, prepared to fight _and kill and mangle and dispose of_ the Alpha that Molly may have invited inside in his stead. He was still two minutes late. 

Molly slinked off the sofa, totally nude, her skin flushed pink, her inner thighs shining with natural lubricant. Her eyes were blazing, sizing him up, making him feel so small, _so needy...I swear, I’m an adequate Alpha, please let me show you._ He collapsed to his knees, relief washing over him that the only scent in her flat was hers. _Oh god, her, so delicious and powerful and let me taste you, please._

He started to mouth that last sentiment when her hands reached into his hair. She tugged at the roots, forcing him to look up at her. “What have I told you about knocking, my wanton little whore?” she breathed. “You can’t subdue your animal instincts enough to exercise the tiniest bit of decorum?” 

“Only...only around you, Molly,” he manages, straining against her grip to taste the juices on her thigh. She held him tight, tugging back further, so that his throat was bared to her. 

“And I suppose I’m the only one you can’t be on time for, hm?” Before he could answer, she sank gracefully to her knees, releasing her grip in his hair. Her hand snaked to the burgeoning erection between his legs, making him keen. “You’re lucky you’re so impressive, Holmes, otherwise I’d have no mercy.” 

His hips bucked of their own accord, a new whimper forming on his lips. “Yes, yes, Molly, please, mercy, yes,” he babbled, “let me taste you, please, I’ll be good, I’ll make up for my misgivings.” 

Her hand was on his throat in the blink of an eye, not tight enough to stop his breathing but enough to leave a pretty bruise. “You’re only good for knotting, aren’t you, Mycroft?” she teased. “You were made to knot me, and nothing else, weren’t you, my pretty little Alpha whore?” 

He nodded, his brain overwhelmed by the desire to taste her and please her and ease away her disappointment in him with the length of his cock. 

“Say it,” she demanded. 

“I’m only good for knotting you, Molly,” he breathed. “Oh god, only you, I’m--I’m--” 

She shoved him so that he was laying completely flat on her hardwood floor. Molly The Goddess Hooper straddled his hips, grinding against his erection. “Finish it,” she growled, one hand wrapping around his throat and the other slipping beneath his trousers. 

“I’m your pretty little Alpha whore,” he choked, his voice soft. 

“And what are you going to do for me, Mycroft?” 

“Knot you. For days. Scream for you. Beg you. Anything. Anything you want, Molly.” 

Her grip around his girth tightened making him arch his back and groan. “Yes, Mycroft, anything I want.” 

All at once, he was cold, alone. Her warm hand was gone from his erection, her hips no longer pressing and squeezing his thighs. “Upstairs,” she snapped. “Now.” 

He got to his feet, but the Omega grabbed the scruff of his neck, her fingernails digging into the sensitive area of the nape of his neck, dragging him back down to his knees. “Ah, ah, little one, those who behave like animals, _walk_ like animals.” 

He blushed, his breath gone from his chest. “Please, don’t make me--” 

Her lustful gaze only darkened. Her eyes were boring into his soul. “You will crawl up those steps, Mycroft Holmes, like the insolent animal you are, or you will find yourself dealing with the business end of a needle full of a numbing agent.” Her scent and the sight of her powerful and aroused was enough to keep him hard. _Damn my biology!_

Losing the last of himself to his reptile brain, he whined again, wrapping his arms around her long, smooth legs. “Yes, my love, my dearest one, please, let me show what a good Alpha I can be. I won’t disappoint you again, Molly.” 

A gentle touch to his chin made him look up, seeing some semblance of the Lab Mouse Molly in his Omega’s expression. “I know, love. You’ll be a good boy for me. You always are. Now,” sharp nails dug into the skin of his throat, dragging upwards, leaving four angry welts behind, “crawl like the randy animal you are to my room. I expect you to be presenting when I enter the bedroom.” 

A relieved smile brightened his flushed face, and he almost felt that he could breathe again. “Yes, ma’am.” He fell forward, catching himself with his palms. He heard her feet pad away, likely to the kitchen to retrieve some food and water for later, and he took a moment to collect himself. 

_You are Mycroft Holmes. You are the British Government,_ the weakened sane part of his brain manages. 

_I am Mycroft Holmes, brainless, personal fuck toy to Molly Hooper,_ his Alpha section roared back. 

_You’re making a fool of yourself!_

_I’m a good Alpha whore._ He was very content in this identity. Feeling both shame and pride, he began crawling up the rough-carpeted steps to the bedroom of his Omega.


	2. Begging Properly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Foreplay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, I'm sorry. I just...like, there are certain fics in the fandom that build so beautifully, and just leave me desperate for the characters to just do it already, and I just can't emulate it, you know? 
> 
> So, pretend like this is a nice erotic build between two people who need to fuck.

Mycroft Holmes, the British Government, the sole threat to various terrorist organizations, the smartest man in the world, sat in the center of a queen-size bed, blanketed in a garishly pink comforter, various stuffed animals scattered around the edge of the headboard. He was on his knees, leaning back so that his body formed a beautiful 120-degree angle, his (rather remarkable) cock jutting in the space between his thighs and his belly. At the foot of the bed was a vibrator with an inflatable knot, Molly’s scent still fresh on the surface. It took all of his self-control not to mouth the toy, to lick off the remnants of his Omega’s masturbation, but he wouldn’t dare do anything that might end in her sending him away.

Instead, he focused on the feeling of her obscenely soft Siberian White Goose Down comforter beneath him, trying to center himself, trying to push away the intrusive work-related thoughts. Had he told Anthea about the meeting with the North Korean spy? Would she know to cancel it? Who would take care of the Norwegian elections? 

Her. The scent of her overwhelmed, dragged him under so that he was slave to his hormones. To his desires. 

_Molly, Molly, please. Touch me. Fuck me. Ride my knot until I’m raw._ Her hand was in his hair, tugging backwards, just enough that he was precariously balanced. He opened his eyes to see her lustful gaze glued to his body. 

“You need to get out of your head, little Alpha,” she growled. 

His shoulders started to ache from the awkward angle, and his knees weren’t faring much better. He whimpered when her feverishly warm lips ran over the pulsepoint in his neck. 

“You smell like you need me,” she purred, nosing along Mycroft’s jawline, scenting him. 

Mycroft closed his eyes again, nodding. “Yes, I do.” 

She pulled him forward, encouraging him to straighten his legs out in front of him. A moment later, she was in his lap, her sex hovering mere centimeters above his cock. He could feel the heat and humidity radiating from her. God, she smelled delicious. 

“Please, Molly, please, I need this. I--I need you.” He swallowed, thickly. Outside of this little flat, away from the scent of need and power, he would resent himself for letting it reach this point. 

Her long fingers gripped the back of his hair again, forcing him to look up at her. “Open your eyes, Alpha,” she ordered. 

He obeyed. She was sitting tall, propped up on her knees so that she had the advantage of height. Mycroft swallowed with some difficulty, his throat dry and scratchy. Molly’s entire body was pink with arousal and heat, her eyes blazing with lust. The combination of her scent, her slit so close to his arousal, and the plain lust-- _lust for him_ \--in her eyes had him on the verge of coming right then. “Oh, god,” he whispered. 

“You were two minutes late, Mycroft.” Her voice was soft and dangerous, and Mycroft’s hips bucked up against her of their own accord. Without hesitation, Molly reached between them, grasping the base of his cock painfully tight. Mycroft released a loud, broken sound, jerking from her grip to bury his face in her shoulder. “Hush, I didn’t tell you to move, my beautiful Alpha.” Regaining her grip on back of his head, she forced his face up, forced his eyes to meet hers. 

There was _too much_ in her eyes. Lust, power, want, dominance, demand. No one had ever wanted Mycroft like this. No one had ever demanded that Mycroft give. No one had ever taken from him the way Molly Hooper did, and it was so perfectly degrading and arousing, something deep in Mycroft’s chest ached at the mere thought of her. Of this. 

He shut his eyes, the intensity of her stare too much. 

“No, you look at me,” she growled. When he whimpered in protest, she tugged harder at the roots of his dark auburn hair until he obeyed. “Good little whore.” Her voice was soft again, simultaneously sweet and dangerous. “Now, then, you were two minutes late, Mr. Holmes.” 

He nodded in silent acknowledgement, the look in her eyes rendering his mouth and limbs useless. 

“Where were you?” 

“At...at work, Molly. Th-the Diogenes Club.” The wavering in his voice made him blush. He had executed three men _this morning_ , and yet this unimportant Omega had him scared stiff (in more ways than one). 

“You’re the most capable man in the entire world, Mycroft.” She leaned in to whisper in his ear. The warmth of her breath ghosting against the side of his face sent continuous shivers down his spine, goose flesh rising across his body. “Do you expect me to believe you couldn’t get here--” Her free hand came up to his chest, tugging roughly at a nipple, “--when I asked?” 

Again his hips bucked upward, arousal coursing through him. He needed to move. He needed an outlet for this frustration. 

_Do not move,_ his Alpha brain told him. _Do not upset your Omega._

“Answer me, Mycroft.” Another vicious tug. 

Mycroft cried out, his hips seeking out the warmth of her sex. 

“Be still, my pretty Alpha. You’re in enough trouble as it is.” 

“I’m--I’m so sorry. I-I couldn’t--” 

“Two minutes!” she roared. She gripped his wrist, bringing his hand to her wetness. “Do you feel how wet I am? Do you feel how badly I needed my Alpha whore?” Her voice had lost its sweetness, leaving only rage. “Do you?” She ground her clit down on the heel of his hand, letting out a satisfied groan. 

His voice was painfully high, painfully submissive when he answered, “Yes, yes, my love, I’m so sorry. Let--let me make it up to you.” 

She rocked her hips slowly against his hand, mewling softly. “Ask properly, beautiful.” Her eyes were on him with laser focus. So intense. So hot. 

“Please, don’t make me--” 

“For someone who’s so apologetic,” she hissed, “you certainly are resisting me.” 

“No! No, I just...I don’t like--” 

“Is this for you?” she snarled, leaning down to bite his the freckled skin of his shoulder. “Has this anything to do with your biology, Mycroft Holmes?!” 

He arched at the conflicting signals shooting from his shoulder to his brain. _Pain. Shame. So good. Please her._ “N-no, no, my dearest one. I--I’m sorry. I’ll ask properly.” His words were barely above a whisper. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip, hesitation evident in his body language. 

_You should be ashamed,_ the developed portion of his brain berated him. _Don’t even consider saying it, Mycroft Ulysses Holmes._

His Alpha brain merely growled in response, almost laughing. 

“I’m waiting,” Molly hissed, grinding against his palm again. 

It took several moments for Mycroft to find his voice. “Please, Molly, my sweet, merciful Omega, please let your Alpha whore rectify his errors.” The shame burned from his cheek bones to the tips of his ears, but _oh god_ , was it worth it. 

Her lips were on his, demanding more from him, drawing his desire out further, quieting his brain into a state of perfect obedience. 

\---------------- 

Molly knew she would regret degrading Mycroft. He was such a magnificent Alpha, tall and proud and controlled, and somehow, she would strip away every layer of power. She knew she would dread facing Mycroft when her heat passed. _Why would such an alpha-y Alpha keep coming back?_ she would ask herself later. 

But now, all she was capable of considering was punishing the beautiful Alpha that had made her wait when _she fucking needed it so bad_. She slipped off of him, her sex throbbing with want. Once she was settled comfortably on her back, propped up by the pillows so she could enjoy the view, she watched with bated breath as Mycroft moved with almost feline grace to rest his head between her thighs. He was positively beautiful. A thin sheen of sweat sparkled across his skin, the deep pink comforter contrasting gorgeously with his pale, freckled skin. And his cock… 

She licked her lips at the brief sight of his cock peeking out between his long (somewhat pudgy) legs. So needy. Just for her. She would have it soon. She would have him. He would be locked inside of her for as long as her body needed him, milking orgasm after orgasm from him. 

His breath was hot against her entrance, his tongue tracing the outline of her labia with some hesitance. 

“Don’t be shy.” Molly smirked at him when he looked up at her in askance. “It’s not as if you’ve not done this before.” 

She intertwined her fingers in his hair again, gentler this time, encouraging him. He whined before he threw himself into the task at hand. Licking and nibbling at her clitoris, straining his tongue to penetrate her as deep as possible, working to satisfy her heat with only his mouth… He made soft wet sounds as he sucked at the sensitive lips of her labia, and Molly was sure to signify her pleasure with her own purrs. 

Her soft moans and purrs only spurred Mycroft on. In her experience with this particular Alpha, he responded exceptionally well to verbal praise, especially in regards to oral sex. He didn’t tease, as some Alphas seemed to think was necessary, nor did he try to dominate...he simply worked to please. To impress. Mycroft performed oral sex with urgency and care unlike Molly had ever considered. 

“Good,” she managed through gasps for breath, “good boy. Less teeth, that’s better.” 

Her anger waned as he worked her through to orgasm. She had to pull him away, her clitoris feeling too sensitive in the post-orgasmic haze. He whined again, making her giggle. “Mm, yes, that was lovely. Beautiful.” 

“My pleasure,” he panted, resting his cheek to her thigh. 

“Of course, you’ve still got a lot of work to do,” Molly said, her voice high and breathy. 

Mycroft whimpered his assent. 

Molly waited a few moments, enjoying the rather languorous feeling of having an Alpha so close to her sex, feeling simultaneously needy and lazy, her instincts satisfied that she had procured a mate. She felt no urgency now, now that her magnificent Alpha lay obediently between her legs, his erection bobbing ever so slightly with every breath he took. Instead she felt a pleasurable, _deep_ desire for sex, like something thrumming inside of her. She quite liked the feeling. 

And when the thrumming grew to be a bit too much, she brought Mycroft’s mouth back to her slit. He accepted without hesitation, desperate for a taste of his Omega once more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mycroft's little beg up there...totally 100% ripped from the fantastic fic [**Cantata for Three Voices in G Major**](http://archiveofourown.org/works/989942). It's my favorite fic.


	3. Did I Do Well?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The actual sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm sorry. I'm not a biologist. This is just 100% my idea of how ABO sex works. I mean, I think it's a relatively common interpretation of ABO sex...but if I'm wrong, I'm sorry, and just pretend it's magic or something. I don't know.

Molly was on her side, enjoying the after-glow of a second orgasm and the deepening urge to fuck Mycroft Holmes into oblivion, when she felt more than heard the pleading sigh at her lower back. She languidly rolled onto her side, staring down the needy man before her.

Mycroft was on his knees again, hunched over to make himself appear smaller. Good God above, he was a sight to behold. His cheeks were shiney with her wetness, and his lips were swollen from the force of her exertions. _Swollen and red and positively perfect, just like his cock,_ Molly thought, a smile splitting across her face. A single drop of sweat trickled down his neck through little fuzzies of red chest hair. 

Mycroft’s pupils were blown wide with want. Molly’s heats were the only time anyone ever saw unabashed pleading on his face, and Molly positively adored it. His sweet, hopeful face was so earnest, so innocent, so _fucking_ sexy. Moreover, no one ever looked at Molly like that. No one ever wanted Molly solely because of who she was. Sherlock wanted access to the morgue, to bodies. Jim wanted Sherlock. Tom wanted a pleading, begging Omega. But Mycroft… 

“Please, miss,” he whispered, tentatively leaning over to brush his lips over her shoulder. 

Molly shuddered, the Omega in her screaming out for her to claim the apologetic Alpha. “Mm, I’m still quite angry with you,” she purred, reaching out to cup his cheek. A sweet, broken sound escaped his throat as he pushed into her touch like a cat desperate for attention. 

And completely destroyed Molly’s resolve. 

Without warning, she tugged him by the scruff of his neck to rest on top of her, her lips claiming his, a growl forming in her throat. 

________________ 

Of the ten partners Mycroft Holmes had procured in his lifetime, none of them had ever bothered to teach him how to kiss. Usually, the Omegas he entertained were too desperate to bother, and the few Betas he’d been with had been too intimidated to mention his somewhat lacking technique. 

The first time he’d been with Molly, she’d growled, “You’re too deep in your head,” and kissed him like no one ever had. He’d knotted right then, much to his embarrassment. 

When Molly Hooper kissed him, she dragged him from his brain, stopped his thoughts dead in their tracks. Even the softest pecks in passing left him useless, his body moving on some base instinct to mimic and please his Omega, which is the state he found himself in now. 

He whimpered happily against her mouth, only vaguely aware of the throbbing ache of his erection. His Alpha brain was purring, satisfied that he’d pleased his Omega. He kissed away from her mouth, down her chin and her neck, breathing soft apologies. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I was late. I’m sorry. I love you. Please take me. Accept me.” 

Mycroft could feel her chuckle when he sucked at her throat, and his primitive brain rewarded him with shivers down his spine, making him want. _Keep your Omega happy._

“All right, then, my pretty Alpha whore,” she said sweetly, bringing his face back up for a kiss, “show me. Show me how sorry you are.” Her hand slid between them, and it was impossible to stop the scream he emitted when her thumbnail came to tease the slit of his cock. His hips bucked into her touch, desperate for more. “You smell delicious,” she murmured into his ear. Her free hand came up to clasp his throat, not squeezing, just keeping him grounded. 

And he was so thankful for that touch to his neck. It reminded him to open his eyes, to focus on his lover, to not get completely lost in sensation. It made the pain bearable when she bit the shell of his ear and when her thumbnail pressed a little too hard against his cock as his hips thrust forward of their own accord. Her hot gaze remained fixed on his hips and his erection. 

“I love watching you rut in my hand,” Molly praised him. “Watching the muscles tighten and relax in your tummy. And that precious lost look in your eyes.” 

His face burned, and he found himself whimpering again. 

“ _Thank you, Molly,_ ” she prompted. His throat was too dry to respond, so he thrusted harder, ignoring the concentrated burn of her fingernail sliding down the underside of his painfully hard and hot cock. Her fist formed a tight circle around him, just loose enough to let his erection slide against her palm. “This is mine, isn’t it, Mycroft?” Her other hand released his throat, her arm resting languidly on the Hello Kitty pillow beneath her. 

He nodded, gasping. He shut his eyes again. The intensity of her gaze was too much. “You know, my favorite thing about Alpha biology is that, outside of, well, me,” she paused to giggle, “you can’t knot. You can come, of course, you’re about to come right now, but you can’t satisfy that deep Alpha urge to knot, can you, my sweet Mycroft?” 

He groaned again, his hips rocking harder into her fist. He hated knotting just as much as he loved it, his Alphahood completely at the mercy of the lab mouse. Her last heat, she’d continued to ride his knot, riding his oversensitive flesh, wringing every last drop from him until he was a blubbering mess, and still his body continued to pulse, smaller, less intense orgasms racking his body. He didn’t want that again. But, goddamnit, he absolutely did. 

“Without me,” she teased, rolling her hips to meet his thrusts, “you’d simply be a beta. Mm, you were made just for me, weren’t you? Let me hear your pretty voice, Myc.” 

He very nearly came when her hips ground against his erection. It took everything in him to keep himself together. “Yes, Molly, yes, just for you.” He groaned helplessly when her hand wrapped around his throat again, the hand around his cock guiding him to the slick, relaxed entrance between her legs. The sensation of her surrounding him, engulfing him overwhelmed him. He forgot to breathe. The meeting of their chemistry nearly blinded him. If she moved right now, he knew he would knot her. “Wait, please. Please wait, just...I just need a moment to...collect myself.” 

Molly giggled again, bringing him in for a bruising kiss. “Does my pretty Alpha whore still buy into the connection between stamina and Alpha-ness?” With him now sheathed inside her, she reached further down to tease his sac. “Move, now,” she barked. Her grip on his balls tightened, and the hand around his throat dragged him forward, a physical demand that he fuck her. 

Mycroft was grateful. Tugging on his balls wasn’t a sure-fire way to prevent premature knotting, but it had a strong track record with the British Government. He cried out hoarsely, lost in the delicious slide of his cock inside of her warmth. _Yes, Molly knows how to handle this; she’ll take what she needs regardless._

That was a comforting thought. Freeing. 

_Don’t upset your Omega, and she will take care of everything else._

Her pleasured moan brought a new blush to his face. “Oh, yes, that’s my good boy.” She pulled him forward again, pulling him in deeper. “Mm, tell me you want this, Myc.” 

“I do,” he panted, his voice soft. He wanted for her next move. Molly always set the pace, even when she was beneath him. He didn’t have to worry about going too fast or too slow or too deep or too shallow; he could completely lose himself--just obey. Just please. “You feel so good around me, M-Molly. So good. I--” His hips canted as she pushed him back by his throat until only the head of his cock remained inside her. “Please.” 

“If you had gotten here sooner, like I’d asked,” she answered lazily, bringing her hand from between his legs to his lips, “we could have gotten here much sooner.” He’d been leaking precome as evidenced by her wet fingertips. He could smell their combined arousal on her, and he whimpered. The smell somehow symbolized everything Mycroft craved. _Comfort, safety, being wanted, desired._

Without asking, he reached out to lick her fingers into his mouth so he could suck them properly. He moaned out his appreciation, swirling his tongue her fingertips. 

“Yes, good boy. So good.” Her vaginal walls tightened around the head of his erection, making him shudder. “Clean them thoroughly.” 

When he had, she pulled them from the suction of his mouth with a soft pop, and before he could whine, she guided him by the throat to thrust into her again. Deep, hard, fast. She tossed her head back, groaning with a lascivious grin on her face. “Mm, I love this, Mycroft. I love how big you are.” She pushed him back, then pulled him forward. She clenched around him when he was fully-seated inside her again, wringing another whimper out of him. 

“You’re so good to me, Molly,” he murmured, his voice catching. “Please, please kiss me.” 

Her fist around his throat tightened, tugging him into a feral kiss, forcing their bodies tightly together. Her hand left his throat, scratching down his back, making him arch, until her fingers traced over the swell of his arse. “Mm, been working out, have you?” she purred as she broke the kiss. 

He blushed. “Y-yes. I wanted to…” his voice faded away. 

Displeased at his answered, she bit his cheek as hard as she could without breaking the skin. “Use your words, Mycroft. You always have such lovely things to say when you’re embarrassed.” 

“I wanted to ensure you enjoyed me...my body.” 

Her fingernails burrowed into his (firmer-than-last-time) arsecheeks, a set point for him to follow. This hold would be his new guide in satisfying his Omega’s heat. “I like it,” she murmured against his reddened cheek, her tongue flicking out across the indentations where her teeth had been. “But I like your body anyway. Especially this.” Her grip on his bum tightened, making his hips twitch, his cock hitting a deeper spot inside of her. “You’ve a fantastic cock, don’t you, my pretty one?” 

His mouth bobbed up and down, at a loss to answer her, lust making him foggy. 

Without warning, she was guiding him in and out, using him to fuck her, to quiet that Omega urge to be filled. He had no choice but to comply. If he wasn’t fast enough or hard enough, her fingers dug bruises into the sensitive skin of his arse, focusing primarily on the place where his thighs met his cheeks. Sometimes, if he didn’t meet her pace, she would drag red welts across the white skin while she peered over his shoulder. 

“Oh, love, even when you don’t meet my expectations, your skin responds to my touches to beautifully. Oooh, that’s it. Good boy. Harder,” she growled on one such occasion. He obeyed, forcing his burning thighs to press harder and deeper into her. 

“Is this better, miss?” he panted, desperate for more praise. He continued rutting into her, his knot swelling. It wouldn’t be long before he was locked inside her. His movements were getting more erratic, the arousal burning in his center ready to release in orgasm. 

________________ 

“Is this better, miss?” 

That was her undoing. 

Molly _loved_ Mycroft’s desperation for praise. It made him him obedient and pliable, willing to work through the pain to meet her demands. She could feel the swell of his knot at her entrance. She pulled him in deeper, taking him in, knot and all, the delicious burning spread and the tickling of his pubic hair against her clit sending her over the edge. She came around him, hard, her moans more like snarls as she ground her hips against him, wringing every last bit of pleasure from her orgasm. 

Mycroft was pleading, whining against her ear when she could focus again. She could feel his cock trembling, pulsing into her, locking their bodies together. “I...I didn’t mean to...you’re just so amazing when you...when you…” 

Molly chuckled again, her voice thick with satisfaction. “I love it when you can’t control yourself.” She rolled her hips lazily against him, making him wince, drawing another weak orgasm from him. “Do you think you knotted too early?” she asked, tracing her fingers over his lips. 

He nodded, embarrassed. 

“Do you think you could have held on longer?” 

He thought a moment before shaking his head. 

“I’m not entirely unreasonable, my beautiful little whore,” she purred. 

He shuddered again, the blush spreading down his pink, freckled chest. Her internal muscles flexed again, making him groan. “D-Don’t. It’s...sensitive.” 

She glared, tightening again. “This is mine, Mycroft, and I will do with it as I please. And sometimes that entails pulling as many orgasms from you as I can.” He didn’t have the wherewithal to tell her that his body would produce these mini-orgasms regardless until his knot deflated. 

He collapsed on top of her, too exhausted to argue. “Yes, my Queen.” It was his own lack of self-control that put him in this position; what other choice did he have but to deal with the consequences? “Did...Did I do well?” 

Molly brought her hand up to his hair, stroking a few stray hairs into submission. “So well, beautiful. My beautiful Alpha.”


	4. In Which Mycroft Gets Cheese Pastries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So...uh...maybe a feeding kink? But it's not really a kink...just an Omega pampering her Alpha between bouts of fucking. So, like, gentle petting involving food? I don't know. I honestly have no idea how to do things. What am I doing here? Time for a quarter-life crisis. I should not be writing weird biologically-incorrect fanfiction at the age of fucking 25. Well, at least it's not Dragon Ball Z smut anymore, right? I mean, no longer writing about cartoons fucking has to be an improvement, right? 
> 
> I could totally for some for Raditz/Vegeta fanfiction right now. 
> 
> Reader, are you even old enough to remember when smutty fics were labelled as "lemons" and "limes?" Oh my goodness, I am too old for this shit. This is why I'm still single. 
> 
> I love you guys. Sorry for the rant.

Mycroft slowly became aware that the sun had gone, that the only particles of light were streaming in between the threads of the curtains from the streetlamps outside. He felt dizzy, like he was swimming to the surface for air but the surface was only getting further and further away. His senses were failing him. Every bit of sensory input was being processed three times slower than usual.

He reached to his right, unsure why, but convinced that on his side an anchor (or a life-saving float?) would be waiting. All that met him was cool sheets. Moving onto his side seemed like a great effort, like he was watching himself from the ceiling, and he was simply moving in slow motion. 

Empty. 

The bed was empty. 

_Why shouldn't it be empty?_ his sane self asked, confused. 

He shut his eyes again, his head throbbing, but somehow not entirely unpleasant. He wondered if this was what inebriation felt like. Pain in the expanse of skin between his neck and shoulder slowly grew, pain signals moving so sluggishly in his nervous system. With a soft smile, he reached to trace the pain. 

_Why is this pain so comforting?_

Thick cream met his finger tips, and the memory of Molly treating the bite mark began replaying in his memory. A cool cloth on his neck, the sharp sting of isopropyl alcohol, gentle fingers smoothing his hair back, and sweet words of praise and whispers of comfort. 

_Molly!_ his Alpha brain shouted. _Where is Molly? You've displeased her! She's gone! You great lazy elephant of an Alpha!_

Yes, yes, he could smell it now--the source of his awakening. Another Alpha. A faint scent of another Alpha, someone familiar. Someone was challenging him. Had he slept too long? Had he not been sufficient? Why would she invite another Alpha into their den if not to mate? 

His stomach dropped, jerking him back into reality. The lights at the window were suddenly too much, and the sounds of traffic outside and pedestrians on the sidewalk made his heart race. 

_Fight or flight response,_ his evolved brain snapped. _Primitive and useless, Mycroft. This is why caring is never an advantage._

"Molly?!" He was surprised to hear the croaky, wavering way his voice and lips formed her name. He cleared his throat, squinting his eyes to lessen the mental onslaught of the streetlamps. Mycroft got to his feet, his thighs burning from the exertion of the last... God, how long had it been? How long had he been here? How long had he slept? "Molly?" He would absolutely _murder, skin, humiliate, slaughter, burn_ this new Alpha. And he would fall at his Omega's feet and beg for her mercy and acceptance. 

"Down here, Mycroft. I'll be up in a moment." 

He ran to the top of the steps just as Molly rounded the corner at the bottom. She was no longer naked, which somehow eased the Alpha's nerves, wrapped in a pink Hello Kitty blanket. It clashed horribly with her hair, and yet somehow she looked positively goddessly. 

She leered at him, sizing him up with the same intensity as when he has arrived. "Mm, two of my favorite things. My beautiful boy naked and waiting for me outside my bedroom and government-sponsored delivery." In one hand was his phone, and in the other a green and blue box branded with Mycroft's favorite bakery's logo. 

"Anthea?" he asked. It was Anthea's scent he had smelled from the bedroom, but it was quickly fading. "You called Anthea?" 

Molly offered him a minxy grin as she slinked up the stairs. "I do love being waited on by two Alphas." The Lab Mouse suddenly reappeared as her gaze lingered on the bite mark. "Oh, Myc, I'm so sorry, really I am... I forget, sometimes. I suppose." Her gaze moved to the floor. She chewed her lip. "If you want to...to leave, I can probably manage." 

Mycroft's heart fluttered at her words and he grabbed her hand, desperate to avoid being sent away. "I couldn't leave if I tried," he managed. He hated seeing this once powerful woman succumb to self-doubt. 

Her eyes met his, full of guilt. "Does it hurt very much?" 

He kissed the tips of her fingers. "Deliciously so." 

She blinked slowly, watching intently as he kissed each fingertip. When he finished, she stood on her tiptoes to kiss the tip of his nose, her cheeks turning pink. "You're too accommodating, Myc. Come, let's eat. Anthea brought your favorite. Cheese danishes, right?" 

"But my diet..." 

The Goddess returned. "I don't need my Alpha passing out on while I ride him raw. You already ate all the carrots--you're going to turn orange." 

"But I've already dropped a size around my--" 

"I don't fuck orange Alphas," she snapped, her voice full of mischief as she brushed past him. "Now, change the bedding, love, and we can get started." 

___ 

One of Molly Hooper's simple pleasures was watching an Alpha build and/or maintain a den. Somehow, in Western culture, housework had become intricately tied to Omegahood, and thus was the source of a lot of societal sexism, but throughout history, it has always been the Alpha's job to provide a warm, safe den and to keep it up and running through the sweat of his/her brow. Seeing Mycroft painstakingly remove the linens and replace them was one of those sweet simple pleasures that quickly formed into a smolder in her belly. She watched his long, delicate fingers, uncalloused and soft from working behind a desk, work diligently to smooth out the fitted sheet, ensure that every corner was even and snugly tucked beneath the mattress. And she expressed her appreciation of his body with a wolf whistle when he bent over to retrieve the fresh sheet and comforter. He glared at her, more indignant and embarrassed than angry. "I beg your pardon!" he snapped before he could stop himself. 

Molly laughed. "My poor sweet Alpha. He's so adorable when he's shy." 

His blush deepened, and he looked away. He finished his work quickly, his cock never fully at rest. When he returned from putting the linens in the bathroom hamper, Molly was perched on the bed, naked once again, her legs crossed and a danish in her hand. She relished the look of unabashed desire on his face. Even more so, she relished his uncertainty of how to handle that desire. The poor man had spent so much reigning in his nature that when Molly presented him with an opportunity to act on it, he didn't how to act--he just followed orders. 

_God, he's lovely,_ her Omega brain purrs. _And he wants you so badly. Poor dear. It's not nice to make him wait._

Molly patted her thigh. "Come here, beautiful boy." She watched as the comfort he got from direction washed over him. _Yes, my lovely little whore, just do as I say. Find comfort in obedience._ With feline grace, he slinked to his knees, crawling to sit before her, resting his head on her thigh. When she stroked his cheek, he shut his eyes, nuzzling against her skin. A soft hum escaped his lips. 

"My Queen." 

Molly chuckled. "Will you eat for your Queen?" she teased, breaking off a bit of an untouched pastry. 

He whined, but that was the end of his resistance. When her fingers touched his lips, he opened obediently, sucking in the morsel and moaning at the sweet and savory flavor. 

"That's a good boy." She could feel the heat of his face on her thigh when he blushed again, a few more freckles reappearing along the back of his neck. "Such soft skin," Molly murmured, stroking his neck. Goose flesh broke out across his skin, a shiver to arousal shooting down his spine. 

Molly _loved_ this Alpha. He was so responsive to praise, so sensitive to even the most innocent of touches. She offered him another bite, focusing on his soft, wet lips as they quirked up around the edges. In this state, Mycroft was pure sensuality. He saw her more deeply, focused on her body language, on where she was and what she was doing. He listened more intently to the sounds she made, to her instructions and the inflection with which she spoke them. He savored every flavor she offered him, whether it was a danish or her finger tips, laving his tongue over his skin in a silent plea for more. And when she touched him, he shifted himself in such a way that he was entirely open to her. It wasn't necessarily in his pose or his posture, but just in how he presented himself. His muscles and fat and tissue and every part of him screamed out to her, begging for her touch, like a dried lakebed calls out for rain during a drought. "So sweet." 

He whimpered, his eyelashes fluttering against her leg. "May I kiss you?" he asked softly, looking up at her with glazed over eyes. 

"After you finish your dessert, little one." 

He whined again, but made no fuss as she pressed another piece to his lips. 

Molly was ready to devour him by the time he finished his treat, and when he looked up at her for a kiss, she gripped the hair on the back of his neck and pulled him in for a demanding kiss. Her hand explored his neck and chest, teasing the various bite marks and scratches from their earlier couplings. When she pinched a nipple, he whined, his hips pitching forward against nothing. Her exploration continued downward until she found his gorgeous cock fully erect and just as needy as the rest of him. She broke the kiss, breathing against his ear, "What do you need, love? Tell me what you need." 

"You," he panted. He snaked one arm around her knees, hugging her shins to him as he laid his head back in her lap. "You, please, I need you." 

"Do you need to be inside me, Mycroft? Do you need to knot me?" she teased. 

"Yes, please, Molly, please. I need to scream for you and hurt for you, please." 

She smirked. "How could I deny such a desperate request? Up, on the bed, on your back, pretty one." 

Molly laughed as the Alpha stumbled to his feet, collapsing onto the bed in the requested position. She straddled him, careful to avoid sitting on his cock just yet. "Yes, good boy." She kissed him again, her desire increasing exponentially. She would positively destroy this Alpha. "I'm going to leave bruises on your hips, Mycroft, and on your lips, and everyone will know that I had you in my bed." She bit his bottom lip as she dragged her fingernails down his chest, not even bothering to avoid the scabbed over wounds. He let out a strangled shout, which Molly drank in. "I love hearing you, my beautiful whore." 

"Yours," he answered. "I'm yours, Molly, tell me I'm yours. Make me yours." 

She straightened up, grasping the aching cock behind her and aligning herself for penetration. "Oh, you are mine, Mycroft Holmes. No one will ever be enough for you, no one will ever be able to handle your cock like me, do you understand?" She rocked down on him, taking most of his length in. He cried out, trying not to buck into her, trying to be patient; she could see it on his face. "Mm, Mycroft, you feel so good," she purred, as she bounced further down on him, taking in the rest. "Yes, perfect." 

Her pace was slow, drawing wanton sounds from the Alpha below her. She wrapped one hand around his throat for balance, and she was pleased to feel him pushing against her, searching for more pressure. "You're not allowed to knot until I give you permission. Tell me you understand, Mycroft." 

He bared his throat, rolling his head to one side. "I...I'll try, Molly." 

Molly came down hard on his cock, clenching tightly around him. "No, you will do as I say." 

"I'm so...I'm so hard, Molly. And I'm so relaxed. I don't...I don't have any control whatsoever." 

_Well then. That_ made her arousal spike. She grabbed his face, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Say that again," she said softly, stilling her hips. 

He searched her face, trying to decipher if she was pleased or displeased, trying to find the right answer. "I...I can't control myself. You've--you've completely stripped me of my self-control, my Queen," he whispered, his blush spreading down his neck. 

Molly smiled broadly. "Fuck, yes, Mycroft, say it again." She began a new pace, riding him as hard and fast as her body allowed. She situated her aim so that his cock hit a deep, sweet spot inside of her. It wouldn't be long until she came around him. 

"I'm completely at your mercy, miss. I can't control myself. I'm so lucky, Molly, to have you. Please, please, may I move with you? I have to," he whined, his speech devolving into babbling as his hips thrust up to meet her. "I have to move, miss, I can't control myself, please, Molly, please, please, have mercy, understand. I'm a good Alpha, please tell me I'm a good Alpha..." 

Molly thrust down hard on Mycroft's thick cock as she came, almost growling with pleasure. " _Mine!_ Yes, mine!" She rode out the aftershocks of her orgasm, ignoring the Alpha's whines of pain as her fingernails dug into his neck and chest. 

___ 

Mycroft had to close his eyes as his Omega came. The very sight of her at the height of her pleasure would simply push him over the edge. God, she was beautiful when she came. And knowing that he had been a source of pleasure... 

"Yours, I'm yours," he managed. "I'm good, Molly, please, I'm trying not to knot." 

"Yes," she breathed. Her vaginal walls continued to spasm around his aching cock. "Yes, you're mine. You're my beautiful Alpha whore. You're doing so well." 

Something lightened in his chest. Yes, he could wait. He was doing well. His Omega was pleased. He could hold off a bit longer to please his Omega. He had to.


	5. Teasing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More PWP.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So originally this was going to be the last chapter but it needs another chapter.
> 
> Guys, I'm really sorry if this is awful. Like, I'm not even kidding. I just imagine my readers' ovaries or testicles just withdrawing and shutting everything down, like, "Nope, fuck this shit, I'll never be aroused again."
> 
> So, if that happens, my apologies. Kink is such a personal thing.

Molly stared down at Mycroft with a positively devious grin, watching his expression morph from focused to fearful when he opened his eyes. She slipped off of him, maintaining eye contact, noting with relish the little shiver that shook his body when cool air hit his erection.

She leaned down to kiss his forehead, her small breasts nudging against his chin. His warm breath tickled her neck and sternum, and she was acutely aware of how badly Mycroft wanted to mouth at bare skin. God love him, he was a very oral man. 

“Molly?” he rasped. 

“In a moment, dear,” she answered. “Maybe. I’ve got plans for you right now.” 

“Plans?” he asked, sounding lost and vaguely stupid. 

She moved down to kiss his nose. “Yes, sweet pet.” She kissed his lips. “Plans.” He shuddered again as her lips made their way down his neck, pausing to suck at a bruised bitemark. Mycroft’s back arched, and a deliciously broken whine escaped his throat. Molly chuckled against his skin, nuzzling his soft chest hair. 

“You make such beautiful sounds, Mycroft.” She kissed the center of his chest lightly. "Keep still for me." 

Licking his lips, he nodded, expression betraying his distrust and anxiety. He let out a deep breath before obeying, and Molly rewarded him with a sinful, openmouthed kiss to his nipple. It was well-known that Alphas’ nipples weren’t as sensitive as Omegas’, but Molly found that Mycroft enjoyed the attention all the same, and while she certainly enjoyed taking her pleasure from him, that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy giving pleasure as well. 

He closed his eyes again, rolling his head to one side. With another suggestive smirk, she bit down on the hardened nub, revelling in the mix of pain and pleasure displayed on his face. “Do you like that, Mycroft?” she smiled, purposely breathing against spit-slicked skin. 

He nodded, unable to find his voice. “Then why aren’t you looking at me?” she demanded, moving to bite harder at the other tightened bud. He yelped like a wounded animal, back arching against her so that she could feel his cock against her thigh. Immediately, she pressed tiny licks and kisses to the reddening flesh, a weak attempt to soothe the pain. “I shouldn’t have to fight for your attention.” 

The Alpha opened his mouth to say something, but was silenced when she nipped at the skin above his navel. Molly watched with no small amount of delight as realization dawned across her Alpha’s face. She giggled. Another kiss below his navel. 

“Molly,” he gasped, reaching downward to stop her. “Don’t--” 

She glared up at him, eyes blazing. “Are you attempting to tell me what I can and can’t do with your cock?” 

“No, I just--” 

“Then, as they say, lie back and think of London. My heat is about _me_ , love, and I’ll have you however I choose.” 

Mycroft seemed to settle, but his hand remained on her shoulder, so she ordered him to keep his hands on the headboard until she was finished with him. With some hesitance, he complied. 

And Molly was free to touch her Alpha as she chose. Mycroft really did have such a lovely cock, long and thin, just like the rest of him, and, if such a thing could be said, so expressive when it came to coloring. When he was soft, his cock was only faintly darker than the rest of him, and a few faint freckles dotted his foreskin. (And Molly found that to be utterly adorable, her precious little ginger Alpha.) And as he became more aroused, the skin would be pulled back, the glans fully exposed and purpling with the need to be touched. And if she teased him for too long, his entire length would take on that purplish hue, the skin too dark and too stretched to decipher any freckles. 

And, bless him, Mycroft was currently painfully purple, the base of knot particularly so. She leaned closer, resting her head on his upper thigh. “Poor boy,” she teased. “The pheromones keep you hard, don’t they, sweetheart? Completely at my mercy until you knot…. And people think Omegas are at the mercy of their Alphas.” 

With her index finger, she traced a vein down his cock, watching his entire body jump at the touch. “I love your cock, Mycroft. Really, I do.” She ran her tongue over the frenulum, ignoring the bitterness of Alpha precum and her own slick. She could feel his thighs tighten as his hips jerked forward to seek out more of the sensation. “My pretty Alpha and his pretty cock,” she teased again, pressed her lips against the base, and began peppering little kisses up his length. 

And when she lapped at his slit, Mycroft fucking _cried_ , hot stripes of come landing on the Omega’s chin and tongue. 

Molly sat up, reaching for one of Mycroft’s shirts on the floor to wipe her mouth, suppressing a giggle. “That was rather rude, Mycroft.” 

“I’m--I’m so sorry--it just--” Molly smiled as he floundered for words, his erection waning but unable to go down until Molly’s own biology and chemistry were satisfied. She laid beside him, bringing him in for a filthy kiss, one hand forming a loose fist around his sensitive cock, stroking him until he was hard again. 

~ 

The onslaught of sensations were too much--watching his powerful, gorgeous Omega lave kisses along his cock, the feeling of her hot breath and even hotter lips on his tight, desperate-to-be-touched skin, and the smell of Omega arousal left him unable to control himself, and he’d come with a sob. 

And now, his somewhat sadistic Omega was teasing him back to full hardness, making him squirm beneath her ministrations. He simultaneously wanted more and wanted to get away--it was too much and not enough. 

Oh! But her lips! Her lips on his! God, how did he spend a moment away from her knowing the skill with which she played him? When she broke from him, all he could manage was, “Molly.” 

She shushed him, sliding back down to suck the head of his erection between her lips. He could hear himself swearing weakly, trying to keep his hips from bucking ( _after all, if one’s Queen is kind enough to debase herself by sucking one’s cock, then the least one can do is_ try _to mind one’s manners_ , he told himself). 

She began to bob up and down, taking as much as she could, her tongue toying with his slit, and it wasn’t long before Mycroft was positive that Molly Hooper would be the death of him. It seemed such a subversive image, his Goddess wrapping her lips around his cock, appreciating his body, though it was quite obvious he’d spent the last 10 years behind a desk. 

And then her teeth. 

Just the tiniest scrape of teeth along the frenulum had him writhing in ecstacy, hips searching frantically for more. Molly pressed him into the bed with all her weight, a silent demand to be still, and continued the onslaught of sucking and soft scraping. 

“Please, Molly, please,” he begged, oblivious as to what he was even asking for. “‘s’too much, please, more.” 

She kept a slow, agonizing pace until finally she drew another orgasm from him, like a riptide dragging him out to sea. Stars danced in front of his eyes, and his limbs seemed to go pleasantly numb and still. Sleep wasn’t far off. 

_Rude Alpha,_ his animal brain snarled. _Wake up, wake up, you great beast. Clean your Omega. Clean her up before she sends you away!_

Without much more thought, Mycroft sat up, pulling a rather surprised Molly onto his lap, nuzzling his cheek to her chest. He checked her for semen, licking at her neck, her lips, her chin, soft purring sounds emanating from him. His arms were wrapped tightly around her waist, desperate for affection, desperate for the feel of her body against his. 

Molly’s fingers in his hair grounded him enough to manage a few short praises. “You are so kind, my beautiful Omega. So kind and so merciful. I’m sorry I can’t control myself.” 

He only barely registered her giggle. “Oh, my gorgeous ginger whore,” she teased, “it’s quite all right, because I control you fairly well.” 

He looked up at her, his eyes heavy, but he could find no answers on her face. He buried himself between her breasts, listening to her heart beat and her voice reverberate throughout her body. 

“Mycroft?” she asked. “Are you still with me, love?” When he nodded, she continued. “You still haven’t knotted, you know. I’ve only ever had one Alpha who, well, ‘ran out’ before he knotted me. Have you ever had a dry orgasm, Mycroft? I’ve been told they’re quite intense. That’d be an interesting experiment, wouldn’t it, my pretty one? During my next heat, I could tie you down and make you come over and over again until you had nothing else to give me...and then you could knot me. All those mini-orgasms and you’re spent...what would that feel like, sweetheart?” 

Mycroft found himself shuddering as she spoke. To be honest, he’d never contemplated it. Most Omegas wanted to be knotted as soon as possible, everything else be damned. He supposed this was an aspect of the darkness that estrus seemed to bring out in Molly; how could she prolong her Alpha’s suffering for as long as possible? God, she was wicked and perfect and powerful and Mycroft regretted not coming to her as soon as Sherlock mentioned an Omega named Molly at St. Bart’s. 

“Of course,” she continued, “knowing you and your history of blue balls,” here she stopped and snickered and gave his testicles a tug, “I don’t think that would be an issue we’ll run into any time soon. Besides, I can smell how virile you are, dear one. I can smell how badly you want to please me. Mm, and I love that about your scent. You have one of the sweetest scents I’ve ever come across in an Alpha.” She lowered her lips to the shell of his ear. “I’m going to make you knot so hard you forget your own name, understand?” 

“Y-yes, yes ma’am,” he responded, suddenly painfully aware of his aching cock twitching between them. 

“On your back, love.” 

~ 

Watching Mycroft’s eyes rolls into his head and his chest rise and fall with each breathy pant was almost as good as feeling him sink into her sex. Almost. 

She scratched a line from his throat to where they’re connected, where he disappeared into his Queen, and she drank up the pitiful moan he released. 

“You hurt so beautifully for me,” she growled, grinding her hips. “And you’re even more perfect when you moan in pleasure.” She circled her hips slowly and deliberately, watching the Alpha melt beneath her. “That feels good, doesn’t it, sweet boy?” 

“God, yes,” he breathed. “Please let me...let me move.” 

“You mean let you buck?” She leaned over so that her lips were barely brushing the skin of his ear. “Is that what you want? To buck into me like some wanton beast?” 

Mycroft’s face turned a brilliant, adorable shade of red. “I...no…. Yes? I don’t--I don’t know.” 

She contracted her vaginal walls, rocking her hips side to side. “Say it, Mycroft.” 

“I’m only good for knotting you, miss. Please, please let me fuck into you. I’ll be so good, Molly, please, I’ll make you feel so good.” His pride melted away as she settled on a steady pace. “God, please, I need you. I need your permission. Please.” And he punctuated that thought with the neediest mewling sound Molly had ever heard. 

She reached for his throat, and ordered, “Fuck me, Mycroft. Be a good little Alpha whore, and fuck me like the mindless animal you really are.” 

He obeyed instantly, his hips pistoning upwards to meet her pace, his hands gripping her hips for leverage. He began a litany of “yes” and “Molly” and “yours,” entirely unable to form a coherent thought. 

Molly loved watching him come apart. She loved seeing the gentlemanly/submissive Alpha side of him melt even further into a barely tamed animal, fiercely seeking to please his mistress. “Everyone thinks you’re so in control, don’t they, my little one? They see you--right there, that’s perfect--in your tailored suits and your polished shoes, and they have no idea that all it takes is a little bite and a little praise and you’ll be on your knees, isn’t that right, Mycroft? Or is it just for me?” 

“Just you,” he managed, keeping his aim over that one “perfect” spot, urging his Omega closer to climax. “Oh my god, you’re the only one who does this to me.” 

“Damn straight,” Molly growled. “Mine. My Alpha.” Her voice crackled with rising arousal. “Match my pace, Mycroft.” She rode him faster and harder, chasing after the apex of her pleasure. “Harder, pet, harder.” 

_He’s perfect,_ she thought. His cheeks were red, and his glossy eyes were glued on her. Sweat had matted rogue curls to his forehead. His lips were parted, his tongue peeking out to moisten them. He grunted as he thrust upward to meet her rhythm. Molly could feel the muscles in his neck tighten as he struggled to keep his body going. God, the fact that he worked so hard to please her...the fact that her gorgeous Alpha was such a considerate, obedient lover… 

Molly came with a loud “Fuck!” and collapsed on top of him, letting her Alpha work her through the aftershocks of her orgasm with gentler thrusts. “Come on, love, come on, knot for me,” she whispered into his neck, thoroughly sated. “I’m ready, sweet boy.” 

~ 

He rolled her over onto her back, kissing anywhere he could reach as he fucked into her as hard as he could, ignoring the ache in his core and the muscles of his limbs. 

“Yes, thank you, thank you Molly. You’re so...magnificent,” he blathered on. 

Molly purring in his ear pushed him over the edge, and he came with embarrassingly few thrusts, his knot swelling into Molly with virtually no resistance. Even though he’d done this countless times just during this particular round of heat, it never ceased to amaze him just how good she felt around him. 

He muttered thanks and nonsense as Molly’s stroked the sweat-soaked curls from his forehead. “Shh, shh, you did wonderfully, Mycroft. Mm, you still feel so good. I’m so proud of you.” 

The politician basked in the praise, a small orgasm rippling through him. Molly laughed at the moderately pained look on his face. “Poor Alpha. So sensitive.” She kissed him lazily. “Come on, love, let’s get you comfy. It feels like we’ll be here awhile.” 

He nodded weakly, nuzzling his cheek against the top of her head. "'S'you're fault," he slurred, his tongue so incredibly heavy now. "You do this to me." 

Molly laughed again and rolled him onto his back (drawing another shuddery orgasm from him). "Only because you show up when I tell you to." 

"I'd be a fool not too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the whole thing with Myc's cock--that's just my personal experience...and it's 100% possible that that I just sort of projected emotions onto the many shades of his dick.
> 
> Also, Mycroft doesn't need a refractory period because he's an Alpha, and since this is my toy box, an Alpha can come again and again but s/he has to knot before s/he is satisfied.


	6. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens post-heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda fluffy and no porn.

Mycroft woke to Molly’s frantic treatment of various scratches and bitemarks he’d acquired during their coupling. The Lab Mouse had returned, and Mycroft couldn’t deny he was a little disappointed to see The Goddess vanish. But The Lab Mouse had her merits as well. She was gentle and caring, massaging strained muscles and bandaging broken skin.

“You’re up to date on your tetanus shots, right?” she asked when she noticed the Alpha watching her. Worry had furrowed her brow. 

“Of course, though I doubt it would be anything to worry about even if I wasn’t,” he answered gently, reaching out for her hand. He was still riding out the endorphins and hormones coursing through him, and it made him feel lethargic and cuddly. 

Molly looked down at her hand, her cheeks turning bright pink. She’d dressed in thick, long-sleeved woollen pyjamas with cartoon penguins on them. A subconscious effort to hide her body and the embarrassment she always felt after her heat. She didn’t take his hand. “Myc, I’m so sorry. I’m...I’m an idiot. I...I really appreciate you coming. OH GOD! I didn’t mean--” 

Mycroft sat up with a groan, his exhausted body only barely obeying him, and took her hand. He could feel his own face burning. He was coming back to himself--deducing the sentimental value of random objects throughout Molly’s room, noting that she had started using a different brand of tampons as well as lotion (likely an allergy to the other one), how her room’s color palette had obtained a minty green color along with all of the garish pink, et cetera--and his sane self was already donning the Iceman armor. “I...don’t...mind,” he said slowly, very unsure of his words and cadence. He cleared his throat, straightening his posture. “It’s, erm, it’s a pleasure, really.” 

Molly let out a bitter chuckle. “Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard. Tom just _loved_ being bossed around by a horny Omega.” 

“Tom was an idiot,” Mycroft snapped. 

_Careful, Mycroft_ , the voice warned. _Caring is not an advantage. She is not your Omega, and you are not her Alpha. Don’t mistake copulation for sentiment._

Molly met his gaze, surprised by his defense of her. “It’s not...natural, Mycroft. I know it’s not natural.” 

Mycroft awkwardly placed a hand on her shoulder to say something but realized he was still naked beneath the blankets. “Oh, erm, may I--would you hand me my clothes?” 

“They’re in the wash,” Molly answered. “Sorry, they were, er, dirty. I hope they weren’t ruined. I’ll pay for them if they are.” 

“That won’t be necessary.” 

Molly rose off the bed to gather a housecoat from her closet. “Sorry, it’s a Christmas robe, but it’s better than nothing, right? I’ll get some more peroxide and some water while you, er, while you put that on.” Still blushing, she exited the room. 

_Mycroft Ulysses Holmes, you are a damned idiot. The entire country has been put on hold so you could mindlessly couple with some specialist registrar. It’s irresponsible, and it’s disgraceful! The things you’ve said...the things you’ve done…_

Mycroft shuddered, silencing that voice. He still had another 24 hours to lounge about and reflect on the events of the last three days. And, if he was completely honest, to bask in the apologetic touches and care of Molly Hooper. Despite the shame he felt, he couldn’t deny he _loved_ the sweet caresses she freely gave and the feeling of simply being cared for. 

Mycroft Holmes rarely touched anyone and was rarely touched himself. Last year, Anthea had treated a cut he’d received from a Russian spy, but her touch was swift and medical, nothing like the soft, lingering sensations Molly Hooper left on his skin. It, he was ashamed to say, brought out some sort of yearning within him. He enjoyed that intimacy, but acknowledging that made him uncomfortable. 

_You still have the name of the Prime Minister’s masseur. If you are so starved for physical contact, by all means, call him._

Molly returned a moment later with a first aid kit and some bits from her kitchen. She didn’t look at him. “How do you feel?” she squeaked. 

_Defeated. Exhausted. Light. Wanted. Beautiful._ Any one of those could have been an honest answer, but an automated response came out before he could speak truthfully. “Fine, thank you.” 

A flicker of pain washed over her face, and Mycroft found himself wincing internally. Molly pulled out some peroxide and a cotton swab and began treating a bite mark under his chin. Mycroft allowed himself to float for awhile, high on the sensation of being cared for. Molly was silent as she worked, her face slowly easing into a calm expression. She placed on ice pack on his chest, covering a series of raised welts from her fingernails. He gasped as goosebumps broke out across his skin. 

Molly shushed him absently, smoothing his brow with feather-light touches. “Good, that’s very good.” 

Mycroft caught the words, though apparently Molly didn’t. Something tightened in his chest, something he couldn’t define or explain or really understand. He swallowed, pushing the feeling away. Even so, he found himself replaying the words over and over again in his head. 

~ 

When Mycroft’s eyelids began to droop, Molly allowed herself the opportunity to look him in the face. He looked positively exhausted, bless him, and that made her smile proudly. Yes, he was exhausted because she’d taken him for all he had. 

_Oh my God! What have I done? How does this keep happening? Jesus, Hooper, you can’t just do bodily harm to the first Alpha that responds to your texts!_

The bruises looked terrible, especially the ones around his throat, a mixture of small, choppy blues from her teeth and long, purple ones from her hands. Carefully she traced the ring around his neck. Mycroft didn’t stir. 

_He looks beautiful covered in my marks,_ she thought. 

_No! You sick, sick pervert! You’ve damaged him! This is why you’re still single! It’s not natural!_

Molly sighed, afraid that she would cry if she continued with that mental back-and-forth. She treated his hips and groin with aloe to avoid any irritation. Mycroft hummed sleepily at times, making Molly smile. 

_It would be inappropriate to lay down beside him while he sleeps._

_But it’s my bed!_

_He is sleeping and cannot consent to cuddling. To snuggle up beside him would be sexual assault._

_Fuck that,_ she told the bitchy voice in her head. _I bite his bum when he got up to get water; snuggling with him after three days of heat-sex is probably the calmest thing I’ve done since Monday._

So, careful not to wake him, Molly snuggled in beside him, resting her head on his shoulder. She was surprised to feel his arm wrap around her waist, pulling her body flush to his. She blushed. 

~ 

A small headache had started growing at the back of his skull earlier that morning when he read a report on a terrorist cell in Mongolia. It wasn’t particularly dangerous, but it did present a real issue. The obvious answer would be to simply arrest everyone involved, but the presence of three undercover operatives complicated that. One of the agents was in charge of the books for not only that cell but another series of groups somewhere in Midwest of the United States. The agent had been undercover for a decade, and to simply arrest everyone would mean blowing her cover. They could always arrest her as well, but that presented a whole new set of legal issues. Human Resources would not be pleased. 

Then of course, Sherlock had gone and blown up the break room at NSY, and Lestrade had been nagging Mycroft to fix it. Donovan insisted that Sherlock be held accountable. God, he hated dealing with goldfish. 

And of course, there was the issue with Argentina, one of the MPs being involved in illegal sex trafficking, covering up a few medical experiments, and the Chinese had released a new code this morning, which Mycroft wasn’t able to immediately crack. Damn middleage. 

The sum of all these parts left him feeling annoyed and a bit claustrophobic. The headache progressed further when Mary Morstan showed up with her husband demanding that Mycroft bail Sherlock out of a Welsh jail. Mycroft wasn’t in any hurry to comply. 

It was after 21:00, and Mycroft was still at the Diogenes Club, debating whether or not to have a late supper here or skip the evening meal entirely or head home to begin work on some new plans for the next American election. Most of the members had gone home, and the club would be closing in another hour or so. An ambassador and a renowned psychologist were still seated in the luxurious armchairs, but the flame in the fireplace was dying down. 

Mycroft inhaled deeply, getting to his feet to stretch, when suddenly-- 

_Her._

Mycroft sniffed at the air, his headache lessening. Was it really her? Why on Earth would she be here? Thus far, they hadn’t indulged in any sort of post-heat contact. So something had changed. Molly either wanted to plead on Sherlock’s behalf, or she wanted to discuss the events of the week prior. 

He felt a blush creep up his neck. _You said some truly deplorable things in the heat of the moment,_ he told himself. _And now you have to look her in the eye, both of you fully aware of how you debased yourself._

He froze, taking inventory of his reactions. His palms had started to sweat. His heart rate had increased. He felt the metaphorical butterflies of anticipation fluttering around his middle. _Fight or flight response._

And yet. 

And yet, his shoulders had relaxed, causing his headache to evaporate. He felt lighter, somehow. 

Not wanting to be caught off guard, Mycroft decided that the best way to gain the upper hand in the situation would be to catch her in the hallway. 

Molly’s eyes were wide with surprise when he met her in the corridor. She cleared her throat and shoved a note toward him, but Mycroft turned his back and motioned for her to follow him. He could sense her displeasure, but he didn’t care. He inexplicable felt defensive because her presence didn’t make him feel defensive. Because his first instinct was to relax when he caught her scent, not to get the upperhand as soon as possible. 

_Not healthy or wise,_ he agreed with himself. 

No, outside of heats, he was not Molly’s, and he was a very important and most certainly not some Alpha whore. And she needed to understand that. 

~ 

Molly was an absolute wreck as she took a seat on the other side of Mycroft’s desk. The chair was lower than his and mildly uncomfortable. Mycroft was staring at her with an unreadable face. Was he judging her? Was she being creepy? 

_This is the worst idea I’ve ever had in my entire life._

She sat up straight, trying to look brave and confident, thought she was certain the elder Holmes could deduce her buzzing nerves and self-doubt. 

“Can we speak--here? Is this a good place--?” 

Mycroft answered in the affirmative. “I believe you have a note?” 

Molly gulped. Without paying much attention, she handed him the note, her hands shaking. 

Mycroft opened the folded-multiple-time note, scanned it, and held it up for Molly’s review. 

Molly blushed again. All the note had said was: I NEED TO SPEAK TO YOU. 

“Sorry! Sorry, that was...that was redundant. I’m sorry.” 

“What’s on your mind Ms. Hooper? I assume it has to do with Sherlock’s arrest in Wales three hours ago?” 

Well, she certainly hadn’t expected. “Er, no. Why was he arrested?” 

“Probably for being a nuisance. What brings you here then at 9:15 in the evening if not my troublesome sibling?” 

“I need to talk to you.” 

“I gathered. And read.” 

Molly glared at him. His tone wasn’t icy, but it wasn’t warm or welcoming, and he sat back in his chair looking thoroughly uninterested. Plus, she kept repeating herself. Was he purposely trying to trip her up or was she just fantastic at doing that herself? 

_No!_ she told herself. _No, he doesn’t get to act like we haven’t spent my last four heats together. Bastard Holmes brothers!_

She paused, searching for a way to regain her pride, or what little she had. She met his gaze, steeling herself for an awful reaction. “I expect you at my flat at eight o’clock on Monday morning the second week of August. And I expect you to be on time.” She hoped she sounded brave, because honestly, she was terrified. She kept her hands in her lap to hide her shaking. 

Mycroft blinked placidly. “That can be arranged. Anything else?” he asked as he made some notes on his desk calendar. 

Molly took a deep breath. She was going to do this. She’d had the item in her possession since the day after he left her apartment last week. _Just do it. He can’t kill you. I don’t think…._ From her purse, she pulled a small wrapped box with a green bow on top. 

Mycroft eyed the gift as she plopped it on the desk. She knew he was deducing. And if the blush on his cheeks was anything to go by, he had deduced the contents of the pink-wrapped box. 

“If you don’t, erm, if you don’t like them you can return them. There’s a gift receipt in the--in the box. They just...made me think of you.” 

She couldn’t meet his gaze now. She stared at the floor, wishing she had gone straight home from work. It had been a long, crappy day anyway. Why had she thought this was a good idea? Why did she think that any interaction with any Holmes was a good idea? Why wasn’t she studying medicine in India as she had always planned? GOD WHAT WAS THE POINT? 

Mycroft tearing through the paper brought her back to the moment. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

“Brolly pants,” she whispered softly. “I, um, I thought they were cute.” 

In the remnants of the wrapping sat a pair of cotton boxers, pastel umbrellas dotting the fabric. Each umbrella, whether it was open or closed, was wearing a large smile. It was ridiculous and adorable, and Molly had had a bit much wine when she ordered them online, thinking specifically of making the Alpha wear them during her next heat. 

Mycroft stared up at her with another unreadable look. Molly averted her gaze. “So, yeah, I should, um, I should probably go. This was...fun? No, no it wasn’t, it was terribly awkward, and I shouldn’t have surprised you like this,” she rambled as she turned to go. 

“It’s not unnatural, you know.” 

Molly froze. “What?” 

“Close the door, please. I prefer to keep my personal affairs private.” 

Molly hadn’t realized she’d opened the door, she’d been too overwhelmed with embarrassment and focused on getting the hell outta dodge. Slowly she closed it and turned back to face the Alpha. His face was still blank. 

“Being a dominant Omega is not unnatural. There’s a tribe in Africa wherein Omegas have three Alphas, and are permitted two betas if they so choose, and disobedient Alphas often face death or exile. In Nepal, being an Omega is aligned to godhood because of the ability to give birth. In early Welsh mythology, Arawn blessed an army of Omegas with unearthly strong wills and the ability to enslave Alphas with their scents. Granted, these are rather obscure examples, and Alphas are generally considered to be the more dominant sex by most of the world, but you’re not...unnatural. There’s nothing wrong with you, as they say.” 

Molly laughed. “That does actually make me feel better, Mycroft. Thank you.” 

Finally feeling braver, she met his gaze. Though the rest of his face was calm and emotionless, something akin to desperation had filled his dark blue eyes. Molly could detect the faintest scent of desire emanating from the Alpha, and it made her heart flutter. Had he been in this state the entire time? Was she misreading him? Was she projecting her own feelings of wanting to be loved onto him? She cleared her throat again, shuffling her feet. “Do you--ahem, can I kiss you?” 

“Please.” 

Not even his voice betrayed his need. He was so controlled, and Molly found that she envied that. She took another deep breath, letting the faint smell of Alpha desire embolden her, and moved behind his desk. She slid easily into his lap, and she cupped his face to bring him in for a tentative kiss. 

“Molly,” he groaned, breaking the kiss. “I hate these pants.” 

“I don’t care.” Another kiss. 

“I’m not wearing them.” 

“Yes, you are.” She caught him in another kiss before he could argue.


End file.
